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“Sure,” she says, ruffling my hair. “But it’s okay if you don’t have one. Not all kids have brothers and sisters.”
I nod. “I know. But I think I’d be really good at it.”
She laughs and kisses my forehead. “I know you would. You’d be the best big brother ever.”
AGE 12, JULY
It’s raining, the day he comes back.
Not that I actually see him. He’s already long gone by the time I stumble out of bed and race to the window, planting my hand on the cold, damp glass.
I start to wonder if maybe I dreamt it—the loud banging on the front door. The pop of an exhaust. The skid of tires kicking up rocks.
My heart races, my chest rising and falling real fast.
There are tire tracks in the mud curving along our gravel driveway.
He was here.
I don’t know how I know it was him, I just do.
Just outside my room, on the other side of the door, the floorboards creak with soft, but rapid footfalls.
Knuckling the sleep from my eyes, I open the door just in time to see Mom’s robe float up behind her as she rushes down the steps.
She knows too.
“Mom?” I croak.
At the bottom of the steps, she pauses and spins around, brown hair flying. “Go back to bed, Mason.”
I frown.
He’s already gone. What does it matter?
But then why did he ding-dong ditch at the butt crack of dawn?
Is he still here?
Did someone drop him off?
My chest rises sharply, my heart beating even faster than it was a moment ago, as questions zip through my head on an endless loop.
Is he back? Did he finally come back for me?
Mom must not be too worried about me following along, because she doesn’t wait to see if I listen. Keeping a safe distance back, I creep down the steps after her.
The sun has just begun to rise over the mountains, casting the inside of the house in soft gray light. Distantly, I can hear the rain pinging off the roof and windows.
Mom reaches the front door and grabs the knob. Pushing up on her toes, she presses an eye to the peephole.
And then she just…doesn’t move, like she’s been frozen by Mr. Freeze.
I count to five, frowning, feeling myself grow more worried than hopeful.
I don’t want him back. I changed my mind. I want things to stay the way they are.
When she opens the door, revealing the screen door, I don’t see anything but a hint of the white railing Gavin fixed up and painted last year. Nothing but the smooth floorboards he put in, to replace the uneven rotted ones. Nothing but a gray sky surrounding Mom’s head.
